Static Interference
by Enochian Whisperer
Summary: In what was meant to be a vigorous session, Dean and Castiel are interrupted by the last thing Dean would have ever expected.
1. Chapter 1

Once again, the Winchesters found their journey looping back to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. It wasn't exactly a place that made top notch on US maps, but it was home to their dear friend, Bobby Singer. Bobby's paint-chipped, weather beaten house was the closest thing to home that the boys had, aside from Dean's Impala. But facing the facts, sleeping under an actual roof was far more preferable.

The boys had decided to rendezvous with Bobby after their latest hunt for the sake of checking up on him. Being that Bobby lived all alone, somebody had to watch out for him every now and then. And it had been a while since they last got together for drinks.

"It's good to see you boys," Bobby said, embracing his two "adopted sons". Sam and Dean didn't mind a moment of warm intimacy here. This was Bobby. Though at the moment, they both silently wished that he would shave his beard. The facial hair felt weird, scratching at their necks.

"It's good to see you, Bobby," Dean answered. The three of them were happy. Their happiness didn't shine the brightest, but the moment was still cherished. As hunters, they learned to hold on to what really mattered, and that was family.

The boys and Bobby got caught up. Bobby got Sam and Dean up to speed on the jobs he had been helping other hunters on. Bobby was essentially the powerhouse of the cell. He was the middleman for nearly everyone he knew. If someone needed to fake a call to the FBI for ID verification, Bobby would take the call. If someone needed a lore scrounged up, he was the librarian, holed up with all of his books. Bobby was already nearly caught up on everything Sam and Dean had been up to, except for their activities from the past three weeks. When the men were all talked out, Sam and Dean were allowed to relax a bit. Bobby, however, was ever the busy bee. Dean managed to slip away from Sam and Bobby for the time being. His excuse? He wanted to do some maintenance work on the Impala. Sam decided that he wouldn't be a lazy ass, and chose to get to work, restocking their ammunition. They were low on iron rounds and rock salt shells.

Dean slipped around through the junk yard, heading for the garage, where the sleek ebony car sat outside waiting for him. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and his thoughts wandered to Castiel. It had been weeks since He last graced them with his presence. He actually missed the little nerdy dude... This inevitably led to other deviations of thought. Dean mulled to himself as he paced around the Impala. He was debating on whether or not to summon the angel. He was sure that Castiel would be irritated (not to mention embarrassed) about getting called for something so... lecherous. But a huge part of Dean didn't care. He just wanted to work over this devotee of God. He wanted to flip God off and this would do just that. God had turned His back on him and Sam time and time again. He screwed them over, screwed them to high Heaven, to Hell, _and back_. This would be sufficient repercussion. Castiel wasn't God's. He was going to make that very clear.

Dean gave the vehicle a once-over, then bowed his head.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven," he began with vexation, "Hallowed by Thy Cas get your feathery ass down here." Dean peeked one eye open, and lifted his head.

A moment later, he heard the sound of fluttering wings and it sent chills down his spine. Castiel barely had time to say "Hello, Dean," before the hunter spun on his heels and grabbed the angel by the shoulders. He twisted the shorter man around and pinned him on the hood of the Impala.

_Ow!_

The Winchester chased him down with a feverish kiss.

_Uh_-

Castiel should have been smarter about the proximity in which he landed, but though it went unexpressed, Castiel may have landed where he did purposely. A synchrony of small noises exchanged between them both, as Dean drilled into the dark-haired fellow with an excitement that left the angel cracking the kiss for a breath.

"Dean wait-"

Dean wasn't feeling very patient at the moment, and hearing the gritted texture of Castiel's voice was spurring him. He dipped south, digging into the angel's neck with his teeth. Castiel's pitch twittered as the human left sly red marks in his wake. He finally picked a spot he liked and kissed him there, teasing the area to a flush of purple. Down below, Dean was grinding up, pushing the angel so that his toes could barely touch the gravelly dirt below. He was pushing against him with so much gusto that it actually rocked the Impala ever-so-slightly on its wheels.

_Oh God— Hey! Stop doing that!_

Castiel was melting against the hood of the car. His beige coat was coming undone, splayed out under him as Dean worked to shrug it off it his shoulders. Castiel managed to tip-toe the ground, but not without pressing against Dean. Needless to say, at this point they were enamored.

_Hello-o!_

Dean's hand stopped when the coat was about halfway down the angel's upper arms. He appreciated this sight for a moment, while giving them both room to catch their breaths. Dean, like a lot of men, had his own kinks of sorts. A calloused hand reached to stroke the stubbled face peering up at him. Castiel's own hand lifted to touch the man's face, but he couldn't lift his arms very high because the waterproof material of his coat was unstretchable. At best, he could only grip Dean's sleeves.

_God damn it, I wasn't built for this!_

They didn't say anything to each other. Whatever Castiel had meant to say before was lost on him. Instead the pair shared yet another soul-searching moment, boring into each others' eyes. Blue on green. Or green on blue, rather.

Dean couldn't take it anymore, and he lip-locked with Castiel again. That rough nature of his was creeping out, because those kisses quickly became vicious. His fingers rooted in the man's hair, disheveling it as he carded the dark locks. His hips snapped forward, jerking the Impala back.

_Jesus! Get off! Get the Hell off of me!_

The sound this movement purchased was lewd, especially for an angel. Castiel's fingers were ripping at Dean's t-shirt, trying to tug the cotton-polyester fabric up. Dean was beginning to succumb to Castiel; he needed to lose the shirt and undo the pants. He reached a hand down to unclasp his button. Only then did Dean's senses come flooding back to him for a minute. Sam or Bobby could come out here and find him entangled with their celestial ally. He thought about peeling the angel off of his hood and throwing him in the backseat to finish up the job. But he was dying. He needed Castiel _now_. If anyone found them, God forbid, so be it.

Dean's button came undone, and Castiel was fumbling to help himself out of his own confines. Another thrust pitched a sound so loud that Dean's hand slapped over his mouth. They were both silent, expecting Bobby's front door to creak open at any moment. Thankfully, there wasn't so much as a squeak of hinge. Castiel's eyes reflected his remorse for the slip-up. Dean found it too easy to forgive the transgression.

_Oh __Hell no__. I said ST__**O-**_

Suddenly the Impala's horn blared and the headlights flashed. The two men jolted off of the Impala, but the hood followed, swinging up and shoving the hunter and angel off of the car's body. They hit the ground hard, Dean flattened on his back and Castiel doubled off to the side. The hood swung back down with a brute clap, and the safety clip re-latched itself. The lights shut off and the horn was silenced. Dean stared up at the front of the Impala.

"...What the hell-"

Castiel groaned, and Dean's attention was diverted.

"Cas, you okay?"

"Yeah-" he grunted, rolling slightly to pick himself up. Then it came back to him. Dean helped Castiel back up, and he groaned, gingerly rubbing himself. Great. That was just the intermission he needed. This ache nagged him like a mother. He was pretty sure the angel beside him could relate. Castiel let out a labored breath.

"I was going to tell you that we shouldn't-..." He broke off, in all bashful intent, "...on the car."

Dean looked at him like he had a few screws loose. Then he went to open the driver's door. He didn't see what could have possibly set off the horn. Maybe it was a wiring problem-

The radio turned itself on. Woman From Tokyo wafted from the speakers. While Dean found the song catchy (and found himself humming the chorus quietly), he found it troubling that the key wasn't even in the ignition. It was when the dial on the dashboard began to wobble to and fro across the frequencies that Dean was extremely concerned. The demon knife that he kept inside his boot snaked itself out and he unsheathed it.

"Cas? I think we've got trouble," Dean retreated from the car and the two of them looked around, backing each other up. God, his crotch was burning. This was the absolute _worst_ timing-

_"H-__**ey**__-!/-__**!**__" _

The radio kept warbling between stations, and the frequency was lost, but it came whittling back moments later.

**"YO! WHITE BOY!"**

Dean froze, and his head craned to the Impala. His face was scrawled with confusion. He was dumbfounded. Slowly, the knife lowered, and Dean inched very carefully to the Impala.

"You're talking to _me_?"

**"YEAH, I'M TALKIN' TO YOU! GOD ****_DAMN_****, Y'ALL HAVE A LOTTA NERVE RIDIN' YOUR ORGY-FEST ON ****_MY HOOD_****."**

Dean was absolutely flabbergasted.

"—Who are you?" he demanded, in that threatening tone that he used when scared. Ironically, he used the same tone when he first met Castiel. The only difference here was that Dean was absolutely humiliated, knowing that someone had been _spying on them_.

**"WHO AM I? WHO AM ****_I_****?"** the voice piqued, clearly offended, **"BOY, I OUGHTA CLIMB OUT OF HERE AND GIVE YOU WHAT FOR!"**

It clicked.

"..._Baby?_"

**"NO, WHO'D YOU THINK I WAS, MICHELLE OBAMA?!"**

Dean couldn't blink away his disbelief. He was being sassed by his own ride.


	2. Chapter 2

With a flap of his wings, Castiel was gone. Dean turned around.

"Cas?"

Instead, he spotted Sam rounding a corner in the maze of junked automobiles. _Crap_. The elder Winchester quickly censored himself behind the driver's open door. He couldn't let Sam see the boner he still had. He bit back a cringe. Damn, it hurt.

"Hey!" his brother called as he jogged closer. Dean was suddenly fear-stricken. He hoped to God that the Impala wasn't going to bust him. Sam slowed to a walk. "We heard the horn go off-"

"Yeah that was my fault," Dean explained, scratching the back of his head, "I was just cleaning the junk off the floor, and when I got up my hand pressed it."

The radio suddenly switched on again. This time Three Dog Night came on, and in perfect sync to Dean, the radio shouted "_LIAR! LIAR!_" in response. Dean's heart jumped, and he climbed into the Impala to shut the damn thing _off_-

The dial jumped away from Dean's hand as he reached for the knob.

"_-Make a fool out of me, it don't matter~_" the radio now sang in country. Dean twisted the knob, but the dial didn't budge. He was in disbelief.

"Oh what're you, Bumble Bee now?" the hunter muttered as he pressed the button to shut it off. And Dean hated country music. He smacked the dashboard in frustration. The radio jumped again.

"-_Feel like makin' love to you~_" The instrumental bridge of Bad Company's song followed this verse. The pretty, but bold twine of the guitar raised goosebumps on his skin, and he was immediately thinking of Castiel. Dean jumped up and smacked the back of his head on the roof of the car.

"Ugh! Son of a-!" Dean them remembered that Sam was still here. The younger Winchester's brows were knitted questioningly.

"You alright?"

Dean wanted to say no. His head hurt, and he needed ice or something for his genitals. No, that would only make it worse-

"Yeah-" he forced out.

"You want a beer?" Sam offered, lifting his brows a bit, far from grasping the whole of the situation. Feel Like Makin' Love carried on in the background on a lower volume.

"Nah, I'm good," Dean huffed, sitting back down.

"Alright, well holler if you need anything." Sam shifted and then went on his way. Once his little brother was out of sight, Dean hissed at the machine.

"Okay, _what_ the Hell?"

The radio chirped, and the voice returned.

**"You were about to use me as a freakin' sex object."**

"Oh like I haven't done that before-" Dean spat out, even though he felt guilty about it under these circumstances.

**_"WHAT?!" _**

The horn went off again and Dean flinched, going rigid.

"SHUT UP!" Dean shouted, and the Impala went quiet again. "Geez-" He sighed and rubbed his face. "...Remember Anna Milton?" he asked as delicately as he could manage. "Pretty girl with red hair. She was a fallen angel— literally." He thought back to Anna Milton. Sometimes he still couldn't believe he actually had sex with an angel. It was great sex too. But one thing was for sure. He was never going to have car sex again. Not after this.

**"—I don't remember her,"** the voice answered, crinkling with static, **"I'm not always awake for everything."**

"Wait, what? What do you mean you're not always awake for everything?" Dean asked, "-And how the Hell is this even _possible_? I'm friggin' talking to my _car._ That's a little way off the reservation."

**"I used to be awake all the time. Ever since that tractor trailer totaled me, I've been awake on and off."** There was a pause. **"...Thank you for rebuilding me, Dean."**

The way she said his name threw him. Dean wasn't sure what it was, but it reached him. It felt like his Impala was indeed a real person.

"...Yeah, don't mention it," he blinked with a slight shake of the head, "I'd never give up on you, Baby." A smile crested on Dean's face, and he leaned forward a bit to pat the dashboard. But then his nerves stung down south and he groaned. "_Crap_..."

**"Uh- yeah, go take care of that...,"** the car insisted, **"But if you jerk off in here I swear-"**

"_God_-" Dean cut her off, repulsed by what he was hearing, and stumbled to get out of the car. He slapped the door shut behind him and slunk away.

Dean returned looking a little worse for wear, but he slid back into the car nonetheless. He still couldn't quite grip the fact that his Impala was indeed a living being.

"So where were we-?" he asked.

**"I don't remember."**

Dean was quiet for a minute.

"...Were you awake for my dad?"

The Impala didn't answer immediately.

**"...Yes, I was awake for John. And Sal."**

"Who's Sal?"

**"The man who was my driver before your dad. Sal Moriarty."**

"Oh." Dean reclined a bit and folded his hands thoughtfully, "...Tell me about Sal." Not that Sal would matter much to him in the end, but it the topic was interesting enough.

**"He was my first driver. He bought me brand new. He was religious. Christian, y'know? ... Sal wasn't perfect. He divorced twice, and he drank a lot, but he was a good man." **

Dean would bet so.

**"He decorated my rear view mirror with rosaries and beads and things. He thought it made me look pretty, and I felt pretty, so I didn't mind it." **

As Dean listened to Baby, he was surprised at how different she sounded now, as opposed to when she was yelling at him before. She sounded so much more down-to-earth. When the vehicle finally stopped talking, Dean decided to step up to the plate.

"Were you awake for Lawrence? The showdown with Michael and Lucifer?"

**"...Yes."**

"Was that you, when Sam took back his own body?"

**"That was me. I helped Sam wrestle Lucifer."**

Dean was quiet again, and then he let out a low, impressed whistle.

"Wow. ...I can't thank you enough for that."

**"Sam was gonna kill you, Dean."**

"_Lucifer_," he corrected, "was gonna kill me."

**"Lucifer,"** she accepted the correction.

Both of them were quiet again. This was a real change of pace for Dean. It still felt very out of whack that suddenly Team Free Will had a new member. He would never look at his car the same way again.

"...I should go," Dean said at last, sitting forward, "Sam and Bobby are probably wondering what's taking me so long." The Impala didn't respond.

"Baby?"

Still no response.

Maybe she dozed off. Dean gingerly closed his door this time. He stretched, and impulsively rubbed himself. He still felt little weird down there, but definitely better than before. He could use a shower though. He felt pretty icky.

Dean couldn't walk away without glancing back at least once.


End file.
